A First Night In A Cottage
by Harpy101
Summary: These are not my characters and it's not my story. It's my vision of the first evening in the Bates' cottage in Season 3.


Anna stopped in the middle of the room, dusting cloth in one hand and a basket in the other. She was a bit light headed and could not remember why she had come back to the front parlor. She was aware that it was time to visit the wash basin; she felt grimy.

Lady Mary had very generously given her this whole day off to finish up the cottage for their first night, and Anna had got caught up in what would go where and why, and how it could look just a bit nicer. She had started with the workmen at 5:00 AM cleaning the flues, had scrubbed the floors and beat the rugs and then spent the day putting away sundries in an orderly fashion. John had done his part, in particular supplying them a decent linens, tea service, all the things one needed in a home, but today had been a particularly busy day for him; he was forced to assist His Lordship with the tailor and he was unable to join Anna to help. She knew he regretted that, but she understood.

Anna's thoughts stopped.

She was tired.

And John would be home within the hour. She took a deep breath, looked around the room again, and had an unexpected rush of gratification. It looked quite nice, really, even if she thought so herself.

Anna cleaned up, brushed out her hair and put it up quickly in a simple knot with just a few pins and put on a shift in a shade of blue that John liked on her. She set out the tea service, made a fire and even dotted rosewater on her wrists. She sat down to wait.

Anna woke with a start. John had come in the door and was bent down to kiss her, hat in hand. His eyes were so warm, the kiss so light and sweet.

"Oh!" Anna.

"You have been busy," he said, taking off his coat.

Anna stood up and swayed for a moment. John saw this and stepped in to guide her back down into the chair. He took a look at the room.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you today. But I think it was for the best, seeing your work," he said. It was a thing John would say, but she knew he meant it. "It's cozy and neat. Nicely done, Mrs. Bates,"

"The flues are clean. There's a fire,"

"I'll put the kettle on," he said, staying her as she stood and once again pushing her gently down.

Anna took just a moment to lean her head back, then woke to his touch; he was taking off her shoes.

"You've an early day tomorrow," he said, "No tea tonight. You must get your sleep,"

Anna woke fully this time. "But it's our first night together!"

"And there will be more. That many more if you get your sleep,"

"I don't want to ruin our first night-"

He chuckled. "How could you possibly do that if you are here, and married to me, and love me?"

"But-"

"Leave me for Thomas, if you want ruin,"

He had set her shoes aside and was pulling her up as she giggled. "Come on," he said, in that brisk voice he used on the junior staff at Downton, "Bed,"

Anna sat on the edge of the bed she had carefully made and watched him undress. Her eyes begged to close, but at the same time opened easily to watch him. He was hers now, really hers. At least a few nights a week she could have this intimate time with him, watch his unselfconscious gestures, share calm silences, and simply indulge in admiring him.

Anna deeply respected the way John took on every challenge. He had not been in the best of circumstances before he arrived at Downton, but became much stronger and more vigorous within just a few weeks. He had driven himself relentlessly every day, almost inventing excuses to go up and down the stairs even if it was just to help out a maid or Mrs. Hughes, going on his daily errand walks to the village and putting in some of the longest hours of the entire staff. In addition he always had a moment for everyone, to share a kind word or a dry bit of humor; Anna loved his giving spirit and the way he genuinely liked people. John liked things done well. He put real expertise into the running of the house and his strength lent an air of calm even when the staff were in the midst of a crisis. He had a natural tendency toward leadership so he was like a second manager to Mr. Carson without needing any credit for doing so. And in these last two weeks since release from prison she had watched him do the same thing, rising to every occasion and besting himself. Everyone seemed to have forgotten he had been in prison at all, he had fallen back into Downton life so quickly. Anna loved her husband's courage and kindness, his intelligence and humor, his caring nature. How fortunate she was.

In pajamas, clothes put away, he smiled at her. "Sleepy girl," he said, "What are you mooning about?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you should be in your nightgown,"

Anna was seized by a yawn. She wandered about the room for a moment, managing to change for bed. She started to take down her hair, but he stopped her.

"I'd like to do that," he said. He climbed into the bed, sliding over to make room for her to sit, and began on her hair pins.

"I wanted this night to be special," she said.

"It is,"

"But-" he pulled her down into the bed and into his arms.

Once she was lying next to him Anna felt very much awake. He was kissing her and the heat was rising between them quickly. They had not been together, in a bed, for over a year.

"I don't want to sleep yet," she said.

"One more kiss," he said. But his eyes had darkened and Anna knew the look; this was his hungry look, and she wanted that badly tonight.

She heard herself whine like a child, "_One?_"

He sat up now. "Take off your nightgown,"

"And then you'll only kiss me once?" But Anna threw it onto a chair.

His eyes were taking her in, her body, her face, her hair. "How beautiful you are," he said wonderingly. His hand moved from her hair, down her arm to wrap around her waist. He pulled her to him again.

"One..." he kissed her, his mouth wandered over her shoulder and he murmured, "...long..." he was now in the crook of her elbow, on her wrist, in her palm, across the tips of her fingers, then on her belly, "...kiss...". He sighed, his breath rushing onto her skin. Anna gasped as he kissed his way down her thigh, brushed his lips down her leg, and over the curve of her instep. He put his lips to the bottom of her foot and Anna squeaked, pulling away. He wrapped a hand around her ankle and pulled her foot back to his mouth. Anna gasped and fought him, caught up in resisting the sensation.

"Shh, shh, shh, wait," he said, "Not so lightly, then,"

"What?"

He kissed the bottom of her foot more firmly so it wasn't unbearable, but her feet were quite sensitive and her heart was pounding. He unbuttoned his pajama shirt and placed one of her feet on his chest, holding the other, tracing on the tender flesh. Anna relaxed, succumbing to what he was doing. Every little spot on the bottom of each foot seemed to be linked to another part of her body. She fell into a kind of trance. Her fatigue made her languid.

His mouth followed where his fingers had been caressing her feet and it had become arousing, much more arousing than she could have expected. He had shrugged out of his pajamas and was moving back up over her. Anna was trembling now, her entire body anticipating his touch and having no idea what he would do next.

His hands moved all over her from ear to wrist, from knee to breast and everywhere else in continuous strokes, his lips doing the same, but taking his time to run his eyes over every inch of her. Anna was becoming frantic.

He was looking at her now, tears glittering in his eyes. Anna felt her own start in response.

"I love you," he was saying.

"Make me your wife again," Anna heard herself demand it.

"You are," he breathed, "My wife,"

"I am," she crooned, "Make me yours again," As she took him in, her body quivered and undulated like some marvelous silky sea creature. All of her muscles, inward and outward, were greedily pulling at him and drawing him deeper. She wanted to consume him completely, surround him and keep him.

She held his face against her own, watching him as he moved. He slid an arm under the small of her back and brought her hips up as he drove into her, his eyes burning on hers. "Mine," he groaned, and Anna was launched into a kind of black, sparkling silence as her body melted around him. She held on, riding with him as he filled her.

Anna woke to him kissing her face, her nose and cheeks; he had put out the lamp. He wrapped her in his arms and settled into the pillows, and Anna had just enough strength left to weep one more tear in gratitude, silently.

"Good night, my love," he said.


End file.
